


You Could Make a Killing

by summerstorm



Category: Disney RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Alternate Universe - Spy, F/F, Non-Graphic Violence, Spies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-15
Updated: 2010-03-15
Packaged: 2017-10-08 00:27:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerstorm/pseuds/summerstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Demi promised to have and to hold Selena, for better or for worse, until death do them part five — six, whatever — years ago, she didn't expect 'worse' would ever mean 'being assigned to kill each other by their respective competing companies'. Like, that's not something you predict when you're standing in front of a minister holding your radiant bride's hand. Especially not when you're both keeping your real jobs secret from each other, for good reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Could Make a Killing

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU mirroring a scene from Mr. &amp; Mrs. Smith (2005); my love for fusions knows no bounds. Titled after [the Aimee Mann song](http://www.mediafire.com/?nxjy4imyxtm).

When Demi promised to have and to hold Selena, for better or for worse, until death do them part five — six, whatever — years ago, she didn't expect 'worse' would ever mean 'being assigned to kill each other by their respective competing companies'. Like, that's not something you predict when you're standing in front of a minister holding your radiant bride's hand. Especially not when you're both keeping your real jobs secret from each other, for good reason.

Honestly, Demi thinks certain issues are risky enough to override even the best half-assed wedding vows.

Once the first floor is thoroughly destroyed, Demi loses sight of Selena, and then sees her running across the corridor and shoots at her moving form. She takes the doorframe down as Selena ducks and hides behind a wall.

There's a moment of silence, if you can call the ceiling losing pieces, things detaching from the furniture all around you, and your heartbeat ringing in your ears 'silence'. Demi bides her time, lets her body slow down, her breath steady, and pays close attention to the sounds echoing around her.

Then, from her place up on the stairs' first and only landing, she says loud and sharp, "You dead yet, honeybuns?"

"Keep dreaming, muffin," comes Selena's voice from downstairs, and Demi runs down and rolls into the kitchen as Selena shoots a row of holes through the wall. Beautiful. Demi actually liked that wallpaper.

It's all good, though, because now that the wallpaper is done for, Demi can estimate Selena's position at the other side of the wall and ruin what's left of it without feeling guilty.

Just when she thinks she must have hit, Selena jumps on her back and wraps her arms like vines around Demi's neck, pressing hard and with the sole purpose of strangling her. They stumble into the kitchen and struggle for a while; Demi breaks out of Selena's grip and Selena loses balance for a second before grabbing a saucepan and smacking Demi on the shoulder. Demi grasps at a knife and throws it in Selena's general direction; it very nearly cuts her ear off. Instead, what it does is send a bottle of white wine smashing into the floor, giving Selena a window of opportunity to run off into the living room in search of her lost gun.

Demi reaches her before she gets ahold of it, and their shared instinctive reaction to being within physical reach of each other is punching one another as hard and in as sensitive places as they possibly can.

They stumble into the settee, Demi's position just right to kick Selena in the stomach, and she does until Selena trips her. Demi loses balance and falls over her, the settee gives, and then they're both on the floor, dragging themselves as fast as they can towards the nearest weapon.

When Demi stops acting on automatic, she finds herself standing mere feet away from Selena, both of them holding their weapons at eye level, pointing them at each other.

_This is it_, Demi thinks, and she almost closes her eyes. Almost.

Selena has a long, ugly cut down her bare arm, and her nails are bloody. Demi's cheek is wet and stings when she licks her painfully dry lips — she must have a wound there. Selena's a trained killer, after all. Demi didn't expect to get off without a scratch.

And now —

— now, nothing happens.

"Do it," Selena says.

"Could say the same thing to you," Demi counters.

"Oh, come on," Selena snaps. "I'm giving you an in. Take it."

Demi should. She would offer the same, but Selena's gotten there first, and Demi isn't willing to do sloppy seconds, let alone _be_ them. So she should take advantage of Selena's waiting period and get it over with, shoot her.

No chance of blunder. Just shoot her.

Push that trigger and this will all be over and Demi will go back to her regular assignments and she'll forget any of this ever happened and —

"You can't do it," Selena says, voice strained, a sad smile threatening to break out of her lips. Her tone is not smug or frightened or even particularly surprised.

Demi thinks she's known for a while; they both have. Selena has tried the hardest, because she's _always_ kidded herself she could control every last unpredictable thing in her life, every trace of an emotion the same way she could keep her lies from being uncovered, but Demi has been after her too, looking into Selena's past missions and how she approached her assignments, and she knows if Selena wanted to kill her, she would have been more careful. She would have used a detonator instead of a countdown alarm on the bomb she slipped into Demi's pocket at the restaurant, and she would have left distinguishable marks on the elevators that were less easy to duplicate than the ones Demi found.

And both of them — for a pathetic amount of minutes, they've been shooting to miss, a little bit. Maybe not to miss by a mile, but they've destroyed the house without even grazing each other's skin, and on some level, Demi thinks she must have been unconsciously aiming for those dreadful old-lady curtains more arduously than she was aiming for Selena's head.

"I can't do it," Demi admits casually, tilting her head to the side and offering a complacent one-shouldered shrug. She doesn't want to kill Selena. She even thinks she likes Selena, for the first time in... ever, but she's not about to give her a straight answer. Demi's prouder than that.

"Is this you can't do it, or is this like when you said you couldn't come to my mother's sixtieth birthday party but what you meant was you _wouldn't_ come because you were above lowly things like family gatherings and preferred to spend _my mother's sixtieth birthday_ playing tennis with the Cyruses than at my mother's birthday party, so you said you couldn't, but what you really meant was that you just didn't want to," Selena blurts out, tone as even and steady as her motionlessness even when she runs out of breath.

"Was that even your real mother?"

Selena grits her teeth. "No it wasn't, but that's not the point. Is it a you can't, or is it a you won't," Selena says, exasperated. Demi lets herself smirk for a second — she likes it when her teasing gets a reaction, and now that she knows what Selena's been hiding all along, getting her to show any sort of hint at feelings she's tried to can in feels like a new achievement.

Demi sighs. "I had to fly out to Russia that day," she confesses. "It couldn't wait."

"Oh," Selena says, biting her lip, and takes a deep breath. "One of my girls got in trouble that day. She was held hostage and I got her out of there. Blew the entire security system without leaving a trace," she offers. "I planned it all at home instead of the base. It was a personal counter-mission and I needed to distance myself from her workspace. So it came in handy that you weren't around." She's still rooted to the spot and defiantly keeping eye contact, but there's this hesitance about the way she speaks that sounds like giving in.

Demi finds herself thinking that if she doesn't put the gun down of her own volition, one of these rushes of remembrance and understanding will do it for her.

Then, Selena coughs pointedly. "We need to make a decision here. Is it a you can't," she repeats, enunciating, "or is it a you won't."

"I could do it," Demi says, "maybe. I won't. Amounts to the same thing. I won't, so I can't, and I can't but that's why I won't, and here—" She pops the safety on and throws the weapon onto the overturned settee. "—I'm saying fuck it to holding a loaded gun to my wife's face, how's that for stupid."

"Extremely," Selena says, "just as well," discarding her rifle and smiling a smile that reaches her eyes and that Demi hasn't seen since their honeymoon five — six, whatever, it doesn't matter now anyway, whatever they have now is new, five minutes long, tops — years ago. She's cared about Selena — they've both cared about each other — for that long, but the spark in her chest is different from wanting to bang that hottie she stumbled across in a hotel in Amsterdam, different from the comfort of finding someone whose life logistics would allow Demi to get the settling down with a nice woman part of her life dealt with without too much of a struggle.

"Funny," Demi says. "I was trying to dodge all the hassle of sustaining an honest relationship by marrying you, and I think I like you more now that I know you're trouble."

"Shut up," Selena says, and covers the few steps between them. And has the common courtesy of relinquishing control for a long moment so that Demi can be the one who leans in to kiss her.

That's about as far as Selena will go, because the second their lips meet, there's a leg around Demi's knees dragging them both towards the destroyed hallway until Selena's backed up against the wall, giving her enough stability to lock her thighs around Demi's waist without falling. Demi takes the chance to yank Selena's skirt up over her thighs, squeeze the soft flesh there and slide her hands down to dig her fingertips into Selena's ass while Selena tilts Demi's face up to eat at her mouth, harsh and painful and all-consuming, and Demi wants more, wants more right this instant.

It's not just her — Selena slides down to stand on her feet and works Demi's shirt out of her dress pants with unsteady hands. Demi lets her fumble with the buttons for about three seconds before she undoes the top ones and raises her arms so Selena can pull the shirt over her head.

Before it even hits the floor, Selena's hands are cupping Demi's jaw and she's crushing their mouths together, biting Demi's bottom lip and sucking on it, nipping her way up Demi's jaw before attacking her mouth again.

It's so hard to stop kissing Selena that Demi doesn't, even as she walks them both back out of the corridor and into a room; she's smacked and crushed and hit her every body part against hard surfaces in the last few hours, the pain so sharp it's still fading, so recent its inevitable consequent soreness hasn't kicked in yet. Walking back into a doorframe just because she can't see where she's going is a walk in the park. Toppling over onto the dining room carpet while able to anticipate the fall and deaden it is like tumbling side first onto heaven.

Selena laughs and says, "No more being careful with the delicate flower, huh?"

"Guess not." Demi smirks and yanks her dress down without bothering with the straps first, causing it to tear down the middle and expose Selena's chest in all its magnificent glory.

Demi rolls them over and extends the rip down to the hem of the skirt, then loops over Selena and cups a hand between her legs, barely touching her. Her skin is warm and damp, and Selena arches into Demi's body, breasts brushing Demi's arms.

"Come on," Selena mumbles, and Demi ducks her head to capture a nipple into her mouth. She grazes it lightly with her teeth until it's red and stiff, and then laps at it as her other hand works between Selena's legs. They haven't had sex for several months now, and they haven't made an effort in bed since before Demi took on a deserter's workload at her company last year. _Way_ before that. So Demi figures drawing from experience is a lost cause — at least until Selena gasps when Demi crooks her fingers inside her angling her wrist just right, and lets out a loud moan when Demi rubs her thumb over her in a particular way.

Some kind of muscle memory kicks in, and it's like doing a challenging job, like handling a gun — Demi knows exactly what to do, and gets the exact reactions she's working for, and it's just exhilarating to see Selena lose it like that, thrilling in a way it's never been for them before.

She gets distracted when Selena drops her lids and pouts, such an incongruous gesture now that Demi knows what she gets up to in her spare time, and it catches her off guard when Selena crawls down on her elbows until her head is on a level with Demi's belly, hands undoing her pants and pulling them down. She shimmies a little further down Demi's body, and Demi sucks in a breath.

Demi whimpers as soon as she feels Selena's lips on her, and her adrenaline levels are so high and Selena is so intent in the way she goes about getting Demi off that it's almost embarrassing how fast Demi loses control, starts fucking herself on Selena's tongue in earnest.

She's way past embarrassment when she comes, just so fucking grateful for it, each wave of pleasure such an enormous relief. It's the most satisfying orgasm she's had in ages, and she needs a minute to compose herself before she's capable of rolling over onto her back on the floor. She vaguely feels the fabric of Selena's dress under her. It's nice.

After a while, she opens her eyes and turns to look at Selena. Her hair is a disaster and there's a cut on her forehead Demi hadn't noticed before, and fuck, she's so hot. Demi can't believe she forgot how hot Selena was.

"Bed?" Selena suggests, licking her red, swollen lips. "I think it's still good enough to sleep in." She hums under her breath, then inhales deeply. "Better than the floor, at least. Mattress didn't rip in half or anything."

Demi nods shakily as they rise to their feet. "That sounds good," she says, and then slides a hand over Selena's waist, kisses her. It makes everything feel a little more real.

So they're not killing each other. Unless this is all another big lie and Selena is just waiting for Demi to lose focus before she strikes, but Demi trusts her gut enough to be reasonably confident she won't be murdered if she drifts off to sleep next to her wife.

All that's left to figure out is who they need to take down to get away with this.


End file.
